Vivification
by Ink Cat
Summary: Sometimes unexpected things happen to the most controlled people, and suddenly you find that your world becomes incredibly vivid, and you're so much more alive... AJ.
1. Snow

**Rating:** T, for fluff and kissing and shippy-type stuff.  
**Disclaimer:** I know that I do not own any of these characters and I have the years of intensive therapy and Mickey Mouse band-aids on my soul to prove it.

---

He had been alone for so long. It was funny: through all his cynicism and sarcasm he had still had faith that there was such a thing as true love, though he despaired of ever finding it. _Love is for hormonal teenagers and appearance-oriented business-men_, he told himself. He had always known that he had been lying to himself, but he had never expected the truth to reveal itself in such an unorthodox way.

It turned out that that truth applied to middle aged, divorced, Romanian, black-suit-wearing, conspiracy-theory-spouting sex crimes detectives too.

He had always tried to ignore the truth, to tell himself that love was a sensationalized emotion. He had never expected to be proven wrong on so many levels. He had never expected to be so surprised by someone previously so common place.

He had never expected to fall in love.

---

It had been a particularly hard case for her to try. I could tell; even as the jury delivered a verdict of guilty (on all counts) I could see the intense and… broody, I suppose, look on her face. Even as she left the courthouse, her delicate features were still tight with stress. I caught up with her on the steps.

"Alex, are you all right?" A simple question, the default phrase used by all cops. Everyone knew what the default answer was, or was supposed to be. '_Yeah, I'm fine, I can handle it_.' Even when they couldn't.

"No."

And with one simple word I realized how much this had affected her. She had transitioned easily into SVU; she hadn't been shadowed by the horrendous crimes or shattered victims she had come into contact with – or so it had appeared. But it seemed that this case had pushed her into that painful sea that they all swam in at one time or another. Her eyes were broken, and although she always seemed to be completely aware of herself, she now appeared lost.

She sunk unsteadily to the steps, placing herself shakily as I took a seat next to her. She stared out at the city with an expression close to confusion. "How can people do such terrible things to one another?" she asked, her voice rising. "How can they torture and hurt another living, breathing human being and still insist that they love them?"

Her eyes moved to my face, and I was surprised by the pure, unadulterated innocence and hopelessness in her gaze. I removed my glasses. "Alex, knowing how these people think and why they do what they do would only serve to corrupt the remaining humanity of the rest of us. Because in the end, that's what these people are: animals."

"But isn't that all that we are, when everything boils down? I mean, what is the defining feature that makes these people who they are, what they are? Why not you, why not me, why not any of us?"

"They've been trying to determine that for years, and they still have nothing to show for it. The answers won't come for a long time, if ever. All that we can do until then is to catch them and keep them off of the streets."

I stood, offering her a hand up, which she accepted. Stomping her foot, she tossed her head angrily. "It's not enough! There are still tens of hundreds of thousands of victims who are too afraid or embarrassed to get help or report crimes. What about them? What justice do they get?"

"They don't, and it's tragic. But you're only one woman, Alex. You can't end abuse and disease and world hunger single handedly."

She took my hand and turned to face me, her eyes passionate and desperate and determined. "Then help me."

---

They walked through Central Park, cradling warm cups of coffee. Unspeaking, they shared a silent agreement, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. He wanted to say something, to distract her, but he couldn't find the right words, and she seemed perfectly content to calm herself with a stroll through the still-frozen grounds. The Pinetum was incredible this time of year. John liked it better in the winter, when the snow hung over the dormant trees like a soft shroud, and all of the cacophony of the city and its inhabitants were muffled by the ebony pines. The only sound that Munch could hear was the soft crunch of snow beneath their shoes and the hush of the trees. It reminded him of Frost's poem.

_Whose woods these are, I think I know,  
His house is in the village, though  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow._

But the Pinetum wasn't nearly as dark and ominous as the woods of Frost's imagination. True, it was silent, and the press of the pines would be somewhat unsettling to someone of fairer constitution, but its glittering ice was a sight to see. Winter had left the trees sparkling with frost like the light kisses of a lover.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

He looked out at the barren trees, robbed of their leaves by the lingering chills. "Why did you become a prosecutor?"

They stopped at the edge of the trees and hung back in the cover of the shadow. Wrapping an arm around one pine and leaning against it, she watched the children playing on the Great Lawn moodily. "Law is a family thing, but I switched sides of the courtroom… my parents weren't too happy about that," she said, a faint smile tinging her lips at some memory from years passed. "I guess that I wanted to right the wrongs of the world, you know? Help the weak, protect the helpless, bring justice…" she laughed bitterly. "It seems rather naïve now, doesn't it?"

He didn't answer. Pausing atop a bridge, Alex stopped, leaning over the railing to stare down at the swirling icy waters. Munch propped his back against it. "What about you?" she asked, turning her head to face him. "Why did you join the force?"

He stared at his hands pensively before answering. "I suppose I did it for the same reasons. I always told others that I did it for the challenge, but in actuality I think that what I really wanted to do was stop the people who hurt others."

Alex looked at him, her solemn eyes trailing over his stark silhouette.

"Hey Munch?"

"Yeah?"

"You have style."

"And on that completely random and unrelated note, we should start heading out of the park. It'll be dark soon."

They left the Pinetum, continuing on companionably.

"No, but seriously, I love that hat. I don't think I've ever actually mentioned it before, but I do."

"Thank you, Alex."

She kept looking at it, so he whisked it off of his head and offered it to her in a mock-gallant gesture. She accepted it. Still walking, she examined the hat, turning it this way and that while he studied her with (carefully masked) amusement.

They continued down along the western edge of the Great Lawn, walking past empty gardens and frozen ponds. They came to a courtyard surrounded by trees. Entering, John noted the open area, empty except for a large bronze statue in the clearing's center. Alex sighed.

"Alice in Wonderland," she said. Her tone, Munch thought, was that of a chagrined enemy meeting once again with an old foe.

"What, not a fan of nonsensical literature?"

"No, actually, I rather like Carroll," Alex said, taking a seat on one of the mushrooms, "It's just that I haven't been too fond of this particular story since high school."

"Why, what happened in high school?" asked Munch.

She looked down to stroke the head of the door-mouse, enjoying the texture of its engravings. Her hair shaded her eyes, hiding her face. "Don't want to talk about it."

Munch hoisted himself up onto Alice's mushroom with more effort and a breathless little 'Oof'.

"Oh, come on, Cabot. I bought you a coffee, that must count for _something_."

She sniffed. "It wasn't a very good coffee, either."

"But this promises to be a _very _good story. Tell me." Seeing her unchanging expression, he let out a mock-pained sigh.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Munch."

"If curiosity killed the cat, then satisfaction brought it back."

"That's not how it goes."

"I assure you, counselor, that's exactly how it goes."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. But I'm telling you, that's how it goes."

She rolled her eyes, and they were silent for a moment. "Alex..."

She threw her hands up with a short, almost astonished little laugh. "I'm not telling you! You'll tell the rest of SVU and then they'll mock me for the rest of my life."

"Not for the rest of your life." Under his breath he added, "Maybe just for the rest of your career prosecuting sex crimes." Seeing the reproachful look that she threw him, he said, "Okay, okay, I'm kidding. I won't tell them."

"John..."

"I promise!"

"I suppose that I'll have to tell you know or you'll never leave it alone."

"You suppose right. As my co-workers often tell me, I'm like a pit-bull with a chewy toy when I get stuck on something."

She sighed. "All right." She paused for a long moment, until John made little shooing motions at her

"During my sophomore year," she started reluctantly, "my theater class did 'Alice in Wonderland' for a-"

John interrupted her. "You were in _theater_?" It seemed so unlike the intelligent ADA. He would have figured that she'd've taken an advanced language or been part of the newspaper, something that would've looked good on her college applications.

"My mother made me," Alex answered, wrinkling her nose. "She said that I was a studying fiend and needed an artsy class to 'round me out'," She rolled her eyes at this, and then continued. "I didn't audition, mostly just held props, painted the sets, that sort of thing. I wasn't big on being so conspicuous. But I had loved 'Alice in Wonderland' as a child and I decided that I wanted to audition play Alice."

"_You _auditioned for the lead in a play. _You._ Alex Cabot, A.D.A."

"Yes, I auditioned for the lead, all right? It was a long time ago. Anyway, I rehearsed in my room every single night until auditions. I was so _obviously_ better than the other girls," she sniffed.

_That's the Alex_ _Cabot I know_, John thought. The woman's almost cocky nature had always been obvious to everyone that she was involved with, endearing and infuriating at the same time.

"So imagine my surprise when I checked the cast roster and found that Sylvia Plotts was cast as Alice. And do you know who I was cast as?"

Munch looked at her over his glasses, eyebrows raised in his usual sarcastic expression. "The Walrus?"

"The Dodo."

Munch barked a laugh. "Are you serious?"

Alex nodded, propping her chin on her hand and looking melancholy. "And not even that. I was the Dodo's understudy."

"Forward, backward, inward, outward, come and join the chase, nothing could be drier than a jolly caucus race," Munch sang (Well, maybe not so much sang as rasped, Alex thought, vexed) a little off key. Alex threw him an irritated look, to which he gave an apologetic – yet still mischievous – smile.

She slipped off of her mushroom. Grabbing John by the arm, she pulled him off of _his_ mushroom and linked her arm in his companionably. "C'mon, Sinatra. I don't want to be in here after dark. There are all kinds of weirdos in the park." She should know; she had prosecuted enough sexual assaults and murders on people who were attacked in Central Park.

"You seem to forget, my dear," said Munch, looking down his nose at her with feigned loftiness, "That you are in the company of one of New York's Finest."

She smirked up at him teasingly. "No offense, John, but that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." She reached up to brush his shoulder mockingly. "You're getting too old for this job."

"Bah," he said dismissively as they exited the clearing. "Dream on, kid."

---

They headed towards the exit at East 75th and Fifth Avenue. Alex and John were about fifteen minutes away when the A.D.A. dropped her scarf. Munch stopped a few yards ahead and turned back to let her catch up. She stooped to pick it up, hiding a palmful of snow beneath the gray wool. She trotted forward to catch up with John, who had once again began walking when he saw that she had retrieved the scarf. Walking silently beside him she gravely waited a few seconds before ruffling his hair (unfortunately for him) with the hand that held the snow.

Alex kept walking, and turned back to look at him after she had gone a few feet. He was standing stock still, and reminded her suddenly of an offended cat. After a moment he shook snow out of his hair, trying to get it out before it melted and soaked his hair entirely. Smiling sweetly, she said, "'Revenge is a wicked, cruel, dangerous thing'," she said, quoting Carroll, "but," and here she feigned innocence, "Snowy and wet really is a good look for you, John." She chortled softly to herself, a small smile on her lips. "A caucus race indeed!"

_Two can play at this game_, John thought. He walked on a couple of steps before tripping and falling hard to the cement with a curse. Alex doubled back in concern, forgetting her comeuppance. "Are you all right?" She bent down over the detective.

_Wait for it, wait for it…_ he cautioned himself silently. _Now._

And the blonde A.D.A got a fistful of slush in the face.

She sputtered, rocking back on her heels and standing. "Oh, you cheater. That was just _mean_."

"Fighting fairly is for knights and humanitarians. It's much more fun to fight dirty."

Alex growled, irritated, deciding that retaliation would only earn her retaliation. She walked once again towards the direction of Fifth Avenue, resigned to letting herself be one up-ed. "You're maddening, you know that?"

He shrugged, smirking. "Yeah, I know."

---

They reached the edge of the park. Alex knew that his apartment was south of here, while hers was north.

"Well," John said, "this is where we part company."

"So it is," she said, hiding a twinge of regret with a smile. "Well, thank you, John. You've cheered me up considerably."

"I live to serve, Ms. Cabot."

Realizing that she still held his hat in her hands, she dusted non-existent lint off of the brim. Alex took a step towards him, standing on tip-toe to place the hat atop his head. Adjusting the hat, she noticed for the first time that the simple gesture had brought them much closer together. She met his dark gaze with her own ice blue stare, their eyes now at the same level. Slowly, almost detachedly, she felt her arms sink back down to her sides.

It was as if she was caught in the dark warmth of his eyes. It was intoxicating, and she felt as if she was moving slowly (_ever_ so slowly) through a pool of deep brown honey, or… or molasses, sweet and yet stifling all at once.

Munch was frozen by those eyes, pierced by the utterly haunting gaze that flooded into his soul, filling him with a prickling, numb bliss that was akin to what he imagined frostbite would feel like. His hand lifted to brush back a lock of corn-silk blonde hair from her delicate, porcelain face, flushed from the biting cold. Her skin was cool to the touch, cold and smooth as ice. His arm dropped, falling to rest softly at the small of her back. The hand, as if of its own accord, moved her until she was closer still.

She gazed up at him, her eyes questioning softly. _Not protesting_, he noted, somewhere in the back of his mind. Slowly, pausing just a split second, he moved forward. Their eyes shared an intense look, and both felt a passion and strength that was strange and unknown to them.

His lips met hers. Alex's arms slid up to hook behind his neck. John's other hand found her waist and wrapped around before tightening gently. Alex just tilted her head back. _For an ice-queen_, he mused irrationally, _she sure has warm lips_. Alex ran her fingers through the fringe of hair along his collar (_Very distracting,_ John thought).

But for a moment all of the noise of the city quieted, and all of the hustle and bustle of movement stopped. Time froze into a perfect moment, and even after she slowly pulled away the golden haze remained. As she stared at him through half closed eyes and thick dark lashes, their gazes locked once again, and warmth flooded through Alex's body. Munch, however, felt as if he had just been shocked by a taser. There was an odd spark bouncing around his solar plexus and a buzz rattling around in his skull, but it felt inexplicably, incredibly energizing. John took a tentative step back to see Alex better.

The shroud of silence dropped as the car horns, human voices and mechanical rumbles fell back into place with an almost audible snap. Alex's eyes widened and she turned quickly, as if to leave (_I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have done that…)_, but John caught her softly by the wrist. Turning her reluctantly back to face him, John realized that he didn't know what he wanted to say.

He tugged off his hat and settled it atop Alex's head. It was a bit too big for her: it hung farther over her brow than it should have. John gently tucked a strand of ash blonde hair under the rim and away from her confused eyes. He lightly brushed a kiss across her cheek. With the hint of a smile, he said (not unkindly), "Good night, counselor."

She looked up at him once again, her eyes wide and serious, and touched his hand lightly. "Good night, detective."

And that was how spring began.

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N.** I bent the fabric of the universe to make it possible for Munch and Cabot to take the path they did in such a short time. New York natives, please don't shank me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N. I know. _Finally!_

Dislaimer: I don't own SVU. Duh.

In the days that followed Munch saw very little of Alex. Contrary to popular belief, the crime rate actually dropped during the late winter and early spring months. _It's easy to see why_, John thought while bundling on yet another layer of clothing. New York was still chilly, though the air held the faint promise of spring. But for the time being, it seemed that most rapists weren't overly fond of the slushy mess that was the city's streets.

This lack (well, maybe not lack; there would always be sex offenders out there) of perpetrators left the SVU Squad twiddling their thumbs and a lot of free time between cases. But no perps, Munch couldn't help but think, meant no trials.

He didn't quite know what he would have said to Alex anyway. Their kiss in the park, though intense, had been brief and chaste. John wasn't sure what it meant, or what to think. He had enjoyed his time in the park with Alex, but the kiss had surprised him. He had always thought her beautiful in a cold, controlled kind of way, but he had never thought of her romantically, had never spent hours tracing the lines of her face in his mind, never dwelled on the intense blue of her eyes, never pondered the incredible delicacy of her features.

And God damn it, now it was all that he could do.

More than once he had found himself staring at the ceiling with his feet propped up on his desk and his hands behind his head. Atop the cracked ceiling of the precinct their walk through the park played out. Munch saw the frozen Pinetum, trees layered with ice. He watched himself and Alex take seats on the mushrooms of the bronze statue, smiled at the blonde's shocked expression when he hit her with a snowball. He contemplated seriously their kiss, their goodbyes, and the silent and dazed walk back to his apartment.

He thought that Olivia suspected something. He had caught her considering him the other day, as if chewing the thought over in her mind. She was probably just trying to figure out what I'm brooding over, John thought, glancing at the female detective. Unbeknownst to Munch she was even then running through a list of all their mutual female acquaintances.

_ME Warner? No, married. Captain Siper? Married, with children. Jeffries?_

_Maybe,_ Benson conceded. The two had often flirted casually in the short time they spent as partners, but she was inclined to think that it was more playful than romantic, and she couldn't see them in any kind of actual relationship.

"Benson, Stabler!" The Captain waved at them from his office, interrupting her thoughts. She hoisted herself up and headed for his door, tucking the thoughts away for another, less busy time.

* * *

She had taken to wearing his hat.

She didn't know why she did it. It was silly, it was stupid, it was childish, but she couldn't help but feel like a teenager whose boyfriend had given her his team jacket.

She knew that she looked odd dressed in a pencil skirt, pumps, and a man's hat, but she didn't mind. She had resisted the impulse until she got home, but as soon as she was in her hallway she took it off, caressing it fondly. She rubbed her nose against the soft felt and realized something with a giddy twinge. _It smells like him_, she had thought, _like his cologne and coffee and snow._

She had completely forgotten that snow didn't have a smell.

* * *

Alex had been at her office when Cragen had called her. 

"When's the McKinley trial?" he asked.

"Next Tuesday. Why?"

"Olivia and Elliot still haven't gotten a confession yet, and we still don't have a positive identification."

"Why not?" Alex asked, more sharply than she had intended.

The Captain answered in a defensive tone. "Clarissa was just released from the hospital last night, and her face was still swollen. If we had done an I.D. with her then, the defense would have it thrown out in a heartbeat. Elliot got called away by family stuff, and I didn't want Olivia to continue without him."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you. I've just been a little preoccupied lately." It was true; her mind had been fixed all week on a certain male detective.

"Something-something-Munch-something."

"What!" she exclaimed, surprised to hear the name of the object of her thoughts.

"I said, 'You're not the only one. Munch and Olivia have been rather secretive lately too.'"

Alex's heart nearly flat-lined. It certainly missed a beat, if not a few more.

"What?" she said again, more dazedly this time.

"'You're not the only one. Munch and Olivia have been rather secretive lately too.' How old are you, Alex?"

She was taken aback by the sudden question, and it didn't allow her time to think about what his previous comment could mean. "Thirty four. Why?"

He chuckled good-naturedly. "They say the hearing is the first to go."

She rolled her eyes before asking him, "Do you need me there for the interview?" She already knew he would; asking was just polite. She didn't want to barge into his squad room uninvited, even if it was her job to be there.

"Yeah. She should be down at around noon."

"All right. I'll be there. Thanks."

"No problem."

As she hung up the phone, Alex couldn't help but twirl a pen between her fingers pensively. In the silence she allowed herself to contemplate the possible unspoken implications of 'Munch and Olivia have been rather secretive lately'. _What did he mean by that? Could Olivia and John be…? No. _

Irritated at herself, she paced around the room once before falling back into her chair. _Besides, you're not even seeing the man, it's not like you have any right or reason to be jealous. The thing in the park, it was just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything._ _It's nothing_. She glanced at the clock, realizing that she had been thinking about him for over an hour. _It's nothing,_ she repeated, but she couldn't shake a feeling. She allowed herself to mull it over for a moment before grabbing her coat and briefcase and heading out the door.

_It wasn't 'nothing'. It was something._

She'd have to hurry if she wanted to make it to the station house by noon. She paused halfway out the door and reached back in to snatch John's hat off of her coat rack. Settling it on her head, she stepped into the elevator, standing demurely beside the booth's other occupants. Inwardly, she was squirming. She had just remembered her original worry. _Olivia.

* * *

_

"Hey, Alex!"

Alex turned, surprised to hear the brunette's voice. "Hi, Liv."

Olivia gave her a sheepish grin. "Could you help me with these?" She carried a couple of Styrofoam coffee cups, and there were four or five sub-sandwiches tucked under her arm.

Alex took the coffee from her. "On lunch run?"

The detective smiled wanly. "You go out to get yourself a sandwich and end up getting the whole squad lunch. It's like being a rookie again."

Alex knew the feeling. She had spent the first few years of being a lawyer fetching coffee for the big-guns, to her personal ire. She remembered their smug smiles (and the roving eyes of a few of the men), and recalled the look on the face of the one whose coffee she had dumped in his lap, and his three thousand dollar suit, with a smug smile of her own.

"_Oops. I'm so sorry, sir," she said. She wasn't, and she could tell that he knew that she wasn't._

"_You little chit!" he hissed in pain. "Do you know how much this suit cost me?"_

_She shrugged. "Not as much as my pride would cost me."_

"_There's no room for pride in law, Ms. Cabot. You'd do well to learn that, before you meet a less forgiving employer."_

"_Please. If working for you has taught me anything, it's that pride is everything in law."_

She had walked out, leaving him dabbing futilely at his clothing. He had shaken his head when someone had stood up, as if to go after her.

"_Let her go. We don't need her here anyway. What with her vanity, she'll never be anything more than some lawyer's lap-dog."_

Alex grinned inwardly at the memory. Years later her ex-employer had come crawling back to her after seeing her success as a prosecutor.

"_Alex, darling! How long has it been?"_

"_Not long enough," she answered coolly. She cut to the chase. "What do you want, Richmond?"_

"_Come now, surely you're not still sore over our minor disagreements from your days in my firm?" He paused. "I wanted to you to know that if you ever want to cross over to the other side of the courtroom, Richmond & Jackson always has a place for you."_

_She let out a little astonished laugh. "So I can fetch your little hero-worshipers their lunches? No thanks," she said, pushing past him._

_He caught her arm. "Surely we can… work something out?" he asked. She felt his eyes moving over her body, slowing at her thighs before slipping up to rest on her breasts, and, finally, her face. His grasp on her upper arm was firm, but her eyes were cold and unflinching, even as she wanted to shrink away from the heavy breath that pressed against her._

"_Counselor," she said, tipping her chin up, "I'm going to suggest that you remember that I prosecute sex-crimes. You are dangerously close to crossing the line, and don't think that I'll hesitate to nail your ass to the wall if you overstep the boundaries."_

_He released her, holding his hands up as if she had the plague. Breezing by him unperturbedly, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, enjoying the strong click of her heels against the pavement of the street and the wind that flapped the ends of her coat with a sharp snap._

"Alex? Hey, woo-hoo." Olivia waved a hand in her face, bringing her back to Earth with a jolt.

"Yeah, sorry. Spacing out." They walked the few remaining blocks from the deli where she had run into the female detective to the precinct, chatting amiably.

"So, how are the others? I haven't seen any of you since the Rodgers trial." It was barely a week ago, but that just went to show how closely the ADA worked with her detectives. Usually she saw the members of the Special Victims Unit daily.

"All right, I guess. Elliot's having a hard time with Dickey. The little rascal snuck out the other night to go to the arcade with a friend. Elliot caught him mid-coin insert."

"Poor guy."

"Yeah, Elliot's been having a hard time."

"I meant Dickey!" Alex glanced at Olivia out of the corner of her eye. "Can you imagine having Elliot as a father?" She raised a hand to stop the other woman's protests. "I know, he's a wonderful dad, but if I was _his_ daughter, I'd keep on my best behavior. I can't even begin to picture the heat that this kid's getting."

Olivia grinned. "I heard that his mother's denying him access to any and all technological devices. I think that El has him under house arrest, too. But getting back to the others, Fin's starting to go a little stir-crazy and Cragen's grouchy from boredom. You know. The usual."

"How's Munch?" she asked, trying and failing to sound indifferent.

Olivia didn't notice. "Now that you mention it, he's been acting really weird. I'm trying to figure out what's up with him, but I've been busy with the McKinley case. He's definitely brooding about something. Who knows with him, though?" She spun on the ball of her foot to open the door to the stationhouse for Alex. "He could just be moping over his failed marriages or some other nonsense."

Detective Benson let the door swing shut behind Alex, noting with curiosity the happy look that the ADA tried to hide. Anyone else wouldn't have caught it - Alex was excellent at hiding how she felt - but Olivia's observance, the very thing that made her such a good cop (along with her empathy for the victims and single-mindedness in solving their cases) caught the fleeting expression. She didn't say anything, and Alex didn't even know that Olivia had seen it. Why Alex would be glad that Munch was acting depressed was beyond her, but she wouldn't forget the way the other woman's face perked up, and though she didn't know how it could be important, she took a mental snapshot of the expression in case she ever decided to revisit the incident.

* * *

Alex deposited the cups on the table in the corner, near the decrepit coffee maker, and slipped around the male detectives, all of whom were crowding for their sandwiches. Fin bit into his sub, then grimaced. "'Livia, you know I hate mustard. What gives?" Cragen and Elliot had similar responses to relish and barbeque sauce, respectively. 

The brunette gave them a cheeky smile. "Maybe you should stick to getting your own lunches," she said, snagging her turkey wrap before heading into the interview room with her files.

"Damn. She loves to torment us," Fin said, pawing at his disassembled sandwich with a handful of napkins.

"You make it too easy." The corner of Alex's lips turned up as she swiped a few of Elliot's chips. "Now, how is it that you like barbeque chips but can't stand barbeque sauce?" Alex asked before eating a few of the crisps.

Elliot rolled his eyes. "You two're feeling particularly wily today, aren't you?

"Yup." Alex popped the last chip into her mouth with an attitudinal _crunch_ before following after Olivia.

Walking toward the interview room, she realized that between Point A and Point B was another, forgotten point. John's desk. He was sitting back in his chair and staring out through the window at the early-spring sky. He caught her eye and winked with one of his trademark smirks. She paused momentarily. She lifted her hand and gave him a vague little half-smile before turning quickly to retreat into the interview room. _Fuck_, she thought, leaning against the door.

Sitting at his desk, Munch thought the exact same thing.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Alex allowed herself a small smile. They were fun to watch, Elliot and Olivia. Rodney Garfunkle wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, and the pair used that to their advantage. Better yet, he had agreed to talk to them without his attorney, thanks to some miraculous conniving on Elliot's part. Rodney's eyes flickered back and forth, from Olivia, who was pacing near the room's window, to her partner, who was, in true Stabler fashion, getting right up in his face. Every few minutes they'd switch. Olivia would get in his grill and Elliot would step back. Loud and soft, close and far, good and bad… these variables gave an edge to their interview, and mixing them up kept Garfunkle guessing, batting him between them like two cats with a toy mouse. 

"Why did you do it?" Elliot barked from near the two-way, making Rodney jump.

"D-d-do what?"

Olivia leaned in to whisper. "You raped her, you worthless piece of shit. You broke into her apartment and beat her and raped her."

_Keep going…_ Alex mentally prodded_. He's so close. _But Olivia knew what she was doing.

"Is that what you like, you sick bastard? You get off on forcing women? Maybe that's just because no woman would have you any other way. You're just a pathetic dog who can't keep it in his pants."

She saw Rodney mumbling throughout Olivia's insults. She caught, "I can get chicks…" But the female detective just kept on.

"That must've been it. You wanted to fuck a woman, but you knew that no woman wanted a pasty-faced loser like you. And wooing one of them?"

"Forget it," Elliot added from the corner where he was pacing. "There's no way a wimp like you could impress a woman. So you just took what you wanted."

"You went right on into her apartment, just broke right through the glass. She was lying in bed and you scratched her face with the steel wool that you found in the kitchen sink so that she couldn't see. And when you were done, you went into the bathroom and rubbed her whole body down with it, you cut every inch of her. Did you like it, you freak?"

"No."

"No? You didn't like it?"

"'S not what I meant."

"Really? 'Cause that's what it sounded like you meant to me. What do you think, Detective Stabler?"

He looked up from examining the table. "Hm? Oh. Yeah. I agree."

"You raped her, you son of a bitch. And then you left her lying bloody and torn in her bathtub. You brutalized her. Do you know how old she is? She's only sixteen! A baby!"

"Maybe that's what you like, Rodney," Elliot suggested. "Kids? Tell me, big guy, how many kids have you done?"

"Wh-what? No! I'd never-"

Olivia shoved crime-scene photos of child rape victims, their bloody, bruised bodies, their shattered bones and broken gazes. "Does this turn you on, Rodney? Is this what you have to do to get it up?"

Rodney was shaking. "Stop! Stop it!" He clawed at his eyes, covering them from the horrific images. "No! Leave me alone, why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rodney, look, take a look!" Elliot flipped new pictures on the table, threw them down one after another in rapid succession. Bloody murder-scenes. Rotting, decayed corpses. Mutilated bodies. Cadavers so tortured that they could only be discerned as piles of sinew and bone, lying in pools of blood and body fluids. All in the stark harshness of black and white photography.

Rodney flung himself to the waste bin, retching into the trash. His body shuddered with the deep heaves, and Olivia and Elliot just watched. When he finished, he stumbled shakily for the table. The woman poured some of the water from a nearby bottle onto a heap of napkins and passed it to Garfunkle. He silently accepted them, wiping his face with a trembling hand.

"Just tell us, Rodney. Just tell us the truth." Elliot slid a pad of paper and a pen across the table towards their suspect, who looked at it like he couldn't quite tell what it was. After a moment he reached sleepily for the pen and started to move his hand in a rhythmic motion across the paper. Olivia and her partner stood and exited the room without a word. The heavy interrogation room door slammed shut with a decisive clang, echoing with a bittersweet sense of finality. They had caught their perp… but an innocent had been hurt, had been changed forever. Rodney Garfunkle was going to jail. But Clarissa McKinley would never be the same. For the rest of her life, she'd be seeing faces in the shadows, and her dreams would be haunted with the feel of an alien touch slithering across her skin.

That was the thing about the Special Victims Unit. They were the ones you called after a tragedy. They couldn't erase the past, and they couldn't predict the future. And no matter what they did, it could never change what had happened.

But they tried to live through it, they found ways to live through it; they had to. They kept it from hurting them. They accepted the ways of man, and offered help to the wronged. But above all, they found a way to create a sense of normality in it. It was what they did every day. And the members of the SVU allowed themselves to feel victory, because if they didn't there would be no point. If every time they caught a perpetrator they filled themselves with the pain of the victims, they would never survive.

Alex was a firm believer in this. She was grinning by the time the two were standing beside her and Cragen. "Good work, guys. I'll call Rodney's attorney this afternoon to inform her of his confession. I love it when we run rings around the perps."

"Don't we all," Elliot observed. "I got Cavotta to drive Clarissa home. Should I call to tell her that he confessed?"

Alex nodded, but Olivia was already heading for the door. "I'll do it. I talked to her for a while today, she'll be glad to hear from me. The poor kid needs a friend."

She walked out, leaving the three others standing in front of the two-way, watching Garfunkle. When, after about five more minutes of intense scribbling, Rodney stopped and looked up questioningly, Alex looked at Stabler. "Are you going to take him back to the cage?"

"I wanna let him sweat a little before I throw him in with the big dogs."

Alex nodded. "Okay, but don't take too long."

"Yeah."

"Well, her positive I.D. and his confession should make it pretty easy for the jury." She glanced at her watch. "It's four thirty. I'm going home."

"See you around."

Alex answered with a nod and a, "See you." She left him in the interview room, staring intently at Rodney through the two-way.

She stuck her head into Cragen's office. "I'm heading out."

"Bye," he tossed distractedly, glancing up momentarily before focusing once again on his paperwork.

Alex headed into the squadroom. Olivia was on the phone, presumably with Clarissa. Fin was beside her, offering a cup of coffee, which Olivia declined with a shake of her head.

"You leaving?" Fin asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to call it a day,"

"A'ight."

Olivia waved a goodbye, and Alex returned the gesture. Heading out the door, she snagged her coat and Munch's hat from the rack near the exit. To shrug on the wool jacket she had to switch her briefcase to her other hand. As she did, the fedora slipped onto the steps. She quickly stooped to grab it, brushing the rim lovingly before settling it atop her head. Just as her foot touched the sidewalk, she looked forward. Standing directly in front of her was John.

"Nice hat."

"A friend gave it to me."

"A friend?"

"Yes. A friend."

Munch sighed and stepped towards her. "Look, Alex, about what happened-"

"Don't…" she said, a slight amount of warning in her voice. "Just… don't."

"Alex, are you going to ignore-?"

She turned her head away, coloring faintly. "Leave me alone, John."

"Alex Cabot, are you blushing?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his tone, craning around her shoulder to see. "You _are."_

She steadfastedly kept her gaze away from him, no matter how Munch tried to get in her line of vision. Finally, with a quick side-step, he was standing in front of her, and their eyes were locked again.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of," he said quietly.

She started to argue, and he silenced her with a kiss. At first she resisted, then kissed him back, throwing reluctancy to the wind. His hand reached up to cup the side of her face. When he pulled back she was left a little short of breath. His thumb stroked the smooth skin of her cheek.

"I want to see you again."

She was mute. Speechlessly, she nodded her head. John smiled. "Is that a 'Yes, I'll see you again', or a 'Yes, you're a lunatic'?" he asked. He slipped his hand into hers, amazed at how well the two fit together, and gave it a squeeze.

"You'll see me again," she murmured, unsure whether or not he had even heard her.

"I'm glad," he said. He paused to brush a kiss across the underside of her wrist, eliciting a shiver from the ADA before turning and heading back for the precinct.

As she watched his back retreat back into the station house, she found her voice again, and was able to call, "When?

"Saturday night," he threw over his shoulder, turning to walk backwards a few steps before entering the precinct.

Alex stood frozen for a few seconds after he left. Dreamily she lifted her wrist to her cheek and rubbed it there. How did he know that that was her most sensitive spot, a place that was as intimate as it was receptive to touch? The last time that someone had touched her there was…

She thought back on past encounters with men. With a jolt, she realized that John had been the last. He had caught her wrist when she turned to leave after they kissed in Central Park.

She lowered her arm, casting around her as if she were coming out of a day dream. Locating the direction of the precinct parking lot, she headed for her car, and home, where she could muss over… things. In particular, things that were witty, handsome, and had a talent for making her stomach do somersaults.

A/N. Edited 9/7. The part about Liv's been taken out, because it's irrelevant to Vivification. Don't worry; it'll be back, and longer, too! Be on the lookout for that one-shot.


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